


Fly, Won't You?

by This_Mortal_Coil



Series: My Voice, Your Candle [1]
Category: Avengers, MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Blind Character, Blindness, F/M, Fear, Healing, Multiple OC's, Mutants, Past Abuse, Past Rape, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn, Torture, Violence, blind OC, dark themes, mental health, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_Mortal_Coil/pseuds/This_Mortal_Coil
Summary: Quinn Howarth is blind as a bat, in every sense of the phrase. Under Director Nicholas Fury’s wing, she was given the alias of The Flying Fox, and shaped into one of SHIELD’s finest agents, alongside The Black Widow and Hawkeye. Things are fairly cut-and-dry, up until she’s recruited for a superhero group known as The Avengers. From then on, she’ll be forced to face the horrors of her upbringing, encounter ghosts from her past, and grapple with her fondness for a certain green beast.In this first installment of My Voice, Your Candle, Agent Quinn Howarth will join the Avengers in defending the Earth, only to inadvertently dig herself deeper into the MCU world and the ensuing chaos.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The companion story to my other series, Sunburst & Snowblind. This story can be read either apart or alongside the latter, and focuses on the point of view and past of Quinn Howarth. I, of course, recommend that you read both!
> 
> This first chapter is mostly introduction, but things will pick up as they go along.

“I still don’t like it.”

Director Nick Fury considered the words mildly, his sole brown eye never leaving the paperwork in front of him. She stood in his peripherals, hands on her hips in a gesture akin to a displeased mother, but he could anticipate her actions, and knew that in spite of her protests, she would follow him to the ends of the Earth.

Agent Quinn Howarth tapped her sneaker impatiently, awaiting a verbal acknowledgment. Dressed in her usual lab coat and a silky pink blouse, the blonde worried the end of a pen between her teeth, gnawing on the cap. Project P.E.G.A.S. was making some immense strides and progress with their mission, but she had never fully warmed up to the idea of SHIELD making and manufacturing _weapons_ with foreign technology. She understood Nick’s reasoning, of course—his mind could cut glass, and his logic was sound—but the invention of these weapons seemed to her more like an _invitation_ for war than a preventative measure.

She had accompanied Nick to New Mexico, to conduct research in their PEGASUS facility. One of the perks of growing up under the Director’s care was that she had acquired a plethora of skills, ranging from close-range combat to Astrophysics, and from Muay Thai to Biochemistry.

“Nick,” she asserted. Though she couldn’t see him, she had a feeling he wasn’t even looking at her. When he continued to remain silent as the grave, she persisted, _“Dad.”_

The _swish_ of Nick’s leather jacket indicated he had finally turned to face her, followed shortly by a curt, “I told you not to call me that here.”

“I don’t know how else to get your attention.” Quinn circled around the man, coming to stand at his right side, her own light footfalls reaching her ears. “We have no idea what this stuff can really do. I know you want us to be prepared, but don’t you think we’re jumping the gun a bit? I mean, just look at what’s happening to this facility!”

“I didn’t bring you here to give your opinion, Howarth,” Nick answered, sweeping past her. She followed the thudding of his boots on tile.

“Even so.” Quinn checked the watch on her arm—an inside joke she’d developed between her and Nick, since she obviously had no means of reading the time. “What information does Coulson have for us?”

They were headed through the radiation section of the research facility. On occasion, an idiotic scientist would question whether a _blind girl_ should be in the radiation area, and suggest the possible dangers of her being around chemicals, but Nick was quick to silence them with a single look. Quinn had been around worse things at a much younger age, and prided herself on being able to tell the chemicals apart better than any able-bodied man in the scientific field.

“Apparently, Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago.”

“I thought he wasn’t authorized to test it yet?”

“He didn’t. It turned on by itself.”

Quinn stopped in her tracks, taking Nick forcefully by the arm. Had anyone else attempted this, he’d have given them a mouthful—both verbally, and with a fist.

 _“What?_ Well it’s _no wonder_ we’re evacuating! I _told you_ this thing shouldn’t be meddled with—”

“Save it, Howarth. The energy levels are spiking, and we need to focus on clearing the campus.”

Nodding, Quinn swallowed her pride and headed wordlessly for the CMS machines with Nick, where she could hear the familiar shuffling of Dr. Erik Selvig mulling about.

“Give me an update, doctor.”

“The Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s…misbehaving.”

“What’s she—it doing?” Quinn cut in.

“She’s glowing unusually brighter, and flare rings keep shooting out at random.”

“How soon until you pull the plug?” Nick demanded.

“She's an energy source. If we turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level…”

“We've prepared for this, doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

 _“Have we_ , though?” Quinn exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I mean, we don't have the harness. Our calculations are _far_ from complete. And if it’s now throwing off interference, that means low levels of gamma radiation are emitting. Could be dangerous, even at such a small amount.”

She could hear the squeak of leather as Nick surveyed the room. “Where's Barton?”

“The Hawk? Up in his nest, as usual.”

“Agent Barton, report,” Nick ordered into his earpiece.

Quinn heard the distinctive gait of Agent Clint Barton as he ran along the catwalk and rappelled down the side, making his way over to their group. Guiding Quinn by the arm, Nick took them both aside, lowering his voice to a discreet level.

“Barton, I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things.”

“Well, I see better from a distance,” Barton reasoned.

“Are you seeing anything that might set this thing off?”

“No one’s been coming or going,” Quinn interjected.

“It's oven is clean,” Barton added. “No contacts, no I.M.'s. If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn't at this end.”

“At this end?”

“Yeah, the cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right? The doors open from both sides.”

“It’s such a cool concept,” Quinn mused, running a hand along her chin. However, something in the air drew her attention, as what appeared to be _energy waves_ swam through the room. She could feel the sensation but not determine its source. Drawing her index and middle fingers to her temple as her eyes slid shut, she began to pick apart the shapes in the room.

Years ago, she had… _developed_ an awareness of the world around her, a unique perspective she referred to as “echolocation,” though the two processes were not exactly the same. By bringing two digits to her forehead, and focusing hard, she could make out the energies and auras in a room, and sense the shapes of all life forms and tangible objects in any given space. Familiar shapes, like Nick or Barton, took on a distinctive aura that she could pick apart from the rest.

Through this sonar of sorts, she honed in on the source of energy waves, which emanated from a huge mass of power. _The Tesseract_. She had seen it through her “echolocation” before, but it had never swelled to this extent, its power engorging and swarming across the room.

“Nick, the cube—”

What sounded like thunder rumbled through the facility, and a sensation similar to an earthquake forced everyone to stagger this way or that. Quinn kept her digits pressed to her forehead, watching as flaring rings of power sprung forth from the Tesseract, building and building until it _burst_ like a bubble. The impact knocked Quinn to her knees, and her sunglasses flung off her face, clattering somewhere out of reach.

_“What’s happening?”_

None of these sensations nor sounds struck her as even vaguely familiar, and the long-forgotten fear of the unknown world around her returned with a vengeance, causing her heart to ricochet off the walls of her chest. She picked apart the only sounds she recognized—screams, the running of shoes, the shatter of glass, a _whooshing_ sound—

And then, silence.

Quinn gripped the nearest metal table’s corner for support, steadying herself. Heavy, obstructed breathing reached her ears, and the waft of smoke curled around her face.

Had…had someone _entered the room_ through the Tesseract? Nothing was impossible to Quinn, not after the things she had seen in her youth, so her mind immediately accepted the illogical possibility that someone—a man, it seemed, based on the depth of their breathing—had come to their planet through the cube.

“Sir, please put down the spear!” Nick hollered. Spear? That sounded primitive, and the prospect of time travel and dimensions briefly crossed Quinn’s mind.

She sensed the movement before it occurred. She heard the brush of a knee against the ground, the twist of a torso, and the sharp movement of an arm being drawn back in an attack stance. Throwing herself forward, she tackled Fury to the ground at the exact time that Barton had, and their foreheads collided painfully as they slammed into each other. The explosion (from the man’s spear, she assumed) made impact just a foot from where Nick had stood.

All hell now broke loose.

The _r-t-t-t-t-t-t-t_ of a machine gun pierced the room, along with the _gust_ of the stranger taking to the air. The bullets hit their target with loud _clinks_ against armor, but clearly did no damage. There’s the _slash_ of a knife blade on flesh, and Quinn ducked beneath a lab table, shielding her head with her arms.

Breathing raggedly, Quinn drew her fingers back to her head, ignoring the sweat sprinkled there as she tried to get a better idea of the mess going on. She followed Barton’s shape as it reached for an object, but a second outline intercepted him, forcing the object from his hand.

“You have heart.”

A shudder wracked Quinn’s small form, the voice giving cause for goosebumps to arise on her skin. The voice sounded almost British, perhaps the West End of London, but its husky, sinister tone chilled her to her core. Still, she focused on the auras as the unknown one pointed something at Barton’s chest. It didn’t appear to actually penetrate Barton’s shape, so for a moment, she found herself bemused by what had just occurred.

The Barton-shape grew rigid, then began to follow the other energy as it went from one person to another, performing the same process. _Mind control_.

Quinn scooted farther beneath the table, searching the room’s energies for Nick. She found him, and recognized the barely-audible _“stthhh”_ of pain and the soft click of a suitcase as Fury stowed the Tesseract away in its case. His shape made for the door, but did not reach more than a few feet before the eerie voice returned.

“Please don't. I still need that.” _He’s polite._ Most psychopaths are.

“This doesn't have to get any messier,” Fury assured the stranger, and she could almost _hear_ his smile.

“Of course it does. I've come too far for anything else. I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.”

 _Asgard?_ That was a mythical place in Norse Mythology.

“Loki?” Selvig spoke up, and Quinn felt his figure shakily standing. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Nick appealed to Loki, and Quinn began crawling on her hands and knees beneath the tables, weaving her way around the wreckage. Since she heard every little sound around her, she had become quite adept at sneaking around unseen and unheard.

“An ant has no quarrel with a boot.”

“You planning to step on us?”

“I come with glad tidings, of a world made free.

“Free from what?”

“Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie.”

 _Talk about screwed up ideals_.

“Once you accept that, in your heart...” Quinn heard Loki whip sharply around, and the brush of some kind of metal against fabric. Selvig gasped, and Quinn hurried to use her honing process again, to see if his magic—sorcery, voodoo, whatever this was—had worked on the doctor as well. It had. “…You will know peace.”

“Yeah, you say peace, I kind of think you mean the other thing.”

The Tesseract’s energy cloud overhead rumbled again in a mimicry of thunder, followed by what sounded like some form of implosion.

“Sir, Director Fury is stalling,” said Barton, and Quinn could hardly believe her own ears. “This place is about to blow. Drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

“Like The Pharaohs of Odin,” Nick confirmed.

“He's right,” Selvig agreed. “The portal is collapsing in on itself. You got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.

“Well, then…”

The blast of a bullet from Barton’s shotgun caused Quinn to startle, her heart screeching to a halt. From its trajectory and the location of the sound, she knew who Barton had shot, and _fury_ (no pun intended) raged in her chest. Still, she remained where she was, waiting for the opportune moment. It wouldn’t do well to act with emotion, and attack hastily.

Nick grunted as the bullet hit him, and the suitcase scraped across the floor as it was lifted away. Quinn crouched in the shadows, edging closer. Loki’s shape seemed unsteady, the black mass wavering as it moved. Was he hurt?

As the group made for the facility’s exit doors, Quinn took her chance. She sprung out of hiding, thrusting her arms around one of her fellow scientists, grabbing him in a chokehold. As she ran to do so, at the exact same time, she flung a leg out, ramming a side-kick into one of the agent’s throats. Hesitation was not allowed here, and though it wounded a deep part of her soul to harm these innocent people in this way, she knew it was her duty as an agent to take them down. Detachment was the mark of a good agent.

Throwing the scientist aside, she kneed Barton in the abdomen and sprung into the air, using an Armada Pulada as she rotated into a spinning aerial kick. They engaged in brief hand-to-hand combat, until Quinn took hold of Barton’s head and brought it forcefully down against the top of her knee, and stomped on the back of his neck, just hard enough to keep him from a quick retaliation.

She turned on the others now, taking down three other members of the group without blinking an eye, until the cold glide of a scepter crossed the base of her throat.

“Such _aggression,”_ Loki huffed in the crook of her ear, and as his arms snaked around her and drew her close, she could feel his heart beating through his chest. “Let’s put it to better use.”

The tip of the weapon scraped along her bare throat, brushing along her shirt until it reached her chest, pressing lightly against her. Quinn writhed and lashed out like a caged animal, but the moment the scepter grazed her chest, her limbs slackened.

Quinn groaned softly, feeling lightheaded as her body seemed to detach from her brain, moving of its own accord, ignoring her panic. Thoughts felt like running underwater, and reminded her of nightmares she’d had before, where she’d attempted to outrun an enemy, only to find herself fleeing in slow-motion. Or perhaps it was as though she had been drugged, or consumed too much alcohol.

The disconnect between mind and body reminded her distinctly of how she used to try to move her ears. The sensation seemed akin to someone losing the feeling in a limb, and then attempting to move it. It simply couldn’t be done.

She was underwater—no, she was looking through a glass sheet. A fishbowl, perhaps. Yes, that made sense…

“Let’s get to the parking lot,” someone said, and seconds passed before it connected with Quinn that _she_ was the one talking. “Vehicle C should be available for use.”

A little huff-of-a-laugh, too smug for its own good, sounded from Loki’s lips. Quinn strode in front of him without meaning to, and led the way from the PEGASUS facility, her posture strong and her head held high.

The mortal woman had caught Loki off-guard, but he chose to brush it off as having to do with his current physical state. He could hardly take notice of an assault, ill as he was, but it still perturbed him on a small scale. People didn't sneak up on him, but this tiny little blonde had burst out of absolutely nowhere, taking down three of his accompanying slaves before he could so much as blink. She would make a _fine_ addition to his conquest.

Her eyes unsettled him, though. White as milk and devoid of pupils, her ghostly eyes didn't even absorb the cobalt color of his scepter, so her actions were his only means of knowing whether she had become a willing participant in his plans.

And how, pray tell, did a woman without sight manage to fight with such _stunning_ accuracy?

 _“Stop!”_ a voice cried from somewhere far in the depths of Quinn’s head, from an unreachable place. The more it shrieked, the quieter the voice grew, until it faded into nonexistence. This fishbowl was her home now, and she would have to deal with it. Loki was her leader, her king, and her guidance. He would show her the way.

The smallest portion of her brain still retained the Real Quinn, who fought with all her might, but the fog over her mind assured her that she was doing the right thing. Helplessness settled in, and she could only watch from the solitude of her fishbowl, drowning behind impenetrable glass.

They reached the parking lot, and the other personnel began to collect weapons. Quinn offered Loki a hand, helping him climb into the back of one of the vehicles. She settled into the truck bed beside him, pulling her gun from its holster.

“Need these vehicles,” she heard Clint say.

“Who's that?” Agent Maria Hill’s voice. She would be safe, so long as she stayed in her lane.

“He didn't tell me.”

But the static of Hill’s walkie-talkie reached Quinn, and Nick’s voice followed, yelling, “Hill, do you copy?! H-Howarth, Howarth and Barton, they’re—”

A bullet whizzed past Quinn, aimed for Barton, but Quinn crouched in front of Loki, shielding him, and aimed in the direction where the first bullet originated from. Several shots fired. She narrowly missed Hill, but managed to take down a second, unknown SHIELD agent. Unacceptable.

The truck _screeched_ as it took off through the tunnel. Quinn remained alert, weapon drawn and fingers prodding her temples as she honed in on the pursuing vehicles. She took out a JEEP’s tires, then a second car’s driver. From her right, she felt Loki shift into a standing position, wielding the scepter to take down the other agents with massive energy blasts.

As Agent Hill's JEEP pulled alongside their truck, Quinn leapt from the truck bed, twisting her body and snapping her wings out as she landed atop the JEEP. Her wings snapped back into place, and she aimed her gun downward and began firing off shots at Hill.

The Agent slammed on the gas, pulling the JEEP ahead of Barton and Loki, jerking on the breaks as she swerved in a 360 to face Barton, opening fire on Barton through her own windshield. Quinn swung down, shattering the glass on the passenger side as she flung herself into the car. In one swift move, she managed to blast a bullet into Hill’s shoulder, causing the agent to lose control of the vehicle and SLAM into the tunnel wall.

Flapping her wings again, Quinn bolted, abandoning the JEEP in pursuit of the truck. She pumped her wings hard, soaring through the rest of the tunnel, landing heavily on her feet in the back of the car. Behind her, a blast from the Tesseract’s haywire actions forced the tunnel to cave in, raining crumbling rock down upon the crashed JEEP.

Only seconds after Quinn returned to the truck bed, the _thwum-thwum-thwum_ of a helicopter sounded overhead, and a bullet ricocheted off the side of the truck.

“Fuck.” Quinn fumbled again for her gun, but Loki’s hand on her shoulder made her stop.

“Let me.”

The blast of Loki’s scepter rang out again, hitting its mark in an explosion of hot flames and falling debris. The truck skidded along the desert floor, kicking up dust, swerving to miss the helicopter’s wreckage. It narrowly escaped, and as the car thundered over the landscape, Quinn finally relaxed, pleased with herself.

She had finally managed to ignore the little girl in the fishbowl, and succumbed to Loki’s rule.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter. I want to focus more on "Real" Quinn, so we're going to do some time-skips in the next chapter, but I felt that this scene was needed, just for some minimal background information. More to come soon!

Quinn nudged Selvig aside, kneeling down in front of the CMS device to scribble notes on a pad and paper. Her writing was chicken scratch, no doubt, but the notes would be beneficial to the other scientists and their work.

“Is Barton looking into finding the Iridium?” she asked offhandedly, her gaze vacant to those around her, Real Quinn long since drowned in her bowl. No, _this_ was the real Quinn. The other was simply deluded.

“Dunno how he plans on getting his hands on any,” Selvig scoffed. “Put it over there!” he added to an unseen group of people, though Quinn felt the immense weight they were carrying as they hoofed it across the underground lab.

When Barton entered, Quinn stood, clicking the cap on her pen. “Did you find it?”

 **“** Where did you _find_ all these people?” Selvig interrupted, and Quinn shot him an indignant scowl (though whether it was aimed properly at its target, she couldn’t say).

 **“** SHIELD has not shortage of enemies, Doctor.” The rush of air indicated he was holding something up, and with a tentative touch, Quinn found the contours of a tablet. “Is this the stuff you need?”

“I wouldn’t know, dummy,” Quinn shot back. “Blind, remember? Selvig, come look at this.”

Selvig peered in over her shoulder. “Yeah, iridium. It's found in meteorites, it forms anti-protons. It's very hard to get hold of.”

 **“** Especially if SHIELD knows you need it.”

“Well, it is the rarest metal on Earth,” Quinn reasoned. “Discovered in 1803. Isotopes 191Ir, 193lr. Atomic mass of 190.96. You know, it’s only found at about 0.001 parts per million in the Earth’s crust, since it’s likely not naturally occurring. And the name is actually derived from the Greek goddess of the rainbow, Iris, and it—”

“Hey!” Selvig cut in, as Loki’s now-recognizable footfalls entered the lab.

Quinn wilted a little, lips pursed as she returned to her work. The Tesseract fueled her hostility, but cooed sweet nothings to her in the same instant. It allowed her to channel her focus into her work in ways she’d never done before, to understand the elements of the Earth in a different light.

“And you?” Loki’s fingertips brushed Quinn’s shoulder, and she glanced up from her clipboard—an unnecessary but habitual gesture. “What did the Tesseract show you?”

“Science,” she breathed, “in its purest form.”

“Is that _all_ you think about?” Selvig chortled. “Good heavens! Read some poetry once in a while.”

“Poetry doesn’t create ionic bonds.”

“I see…Barton, a word.” Loki’s boots thumped along the dirt as he guided Barton away from the scientists, leaving Quinn to focus her efforts on what they would do once (or if) they managed to get their hands on some iridium.

Director Fury deserved every bit of shit coming his way. Real Quinn marveled at him, admired his work ethic and loved him for saving her, but Tesseract-Quinn knew better. Fury took her in, sure—but not out of the goodness of his heart, no. Quinn was a convenient orphan with an even more convenient mutation, and he used it to his own advantage. Where Real Quinn performed everything in her power to impress, Tesseract (no— _Real_ ) Quinn saw the truth: A selfish bastard who took advantage of a bad situation, who drove a little girl into the ground with work, work, work _, work, work_ —

Quinn’s head would have hurt by now, but the Tesseract soothed her mind, lapping at her headache. _Was_ it the Tesseract, though? Or the infinitely different power of the Mind Gem in Loki’s scepter, which warped her every thought and caged her in that wretched _fish bowl—_

_Calm._

_Yes._

_Loki?_

_Yes._

_Fury?_

_No._

_Mind at ease._

_Science._

_Yes._

_Science._

_Calm._

Within the hour, Barton had returned with a mass of SHIELD’s files pulled up on his tablet, skimming through the profiles with Loki at his side. Loki requested all the information Barton could possibly supply for each member of Fury’s current project, “The Avengers Initiative,” so as to have a better understanding of what he would be going up against. When they came upon Quinn’s own file, Loki expressed some confusion, venturing, “What is a phd, and how is it helpful here?”

“It’s a degree,” Quinn explained as she measured out a vial of Acetonitrile. “I have one in Biochemistry, Toxicology, Biotechnology, Microbiology, Thermodynamics, Astrophysics, Neuroscience—”

“Hold up there,” Barton interrupted, taking the tablet to scrutinize for himself. “Are you serious? This list is… _incredibly_ extensive. You also have martial arts training, Capoeira, Sanshou…is there anything Fury _hasn’t_ had you do?”

“Fury?” Loki regarded Quinn now, intrigue spreading across his face. “Howarth. Elaborate,” he ordered.

“Director Fury raised me,” Quinn explained, with the nonchalance of a rebelling teenager. “He kept me pretty busy.”

“Then you must have some insight into his mind.” Loki would have to jot down a note of that for later. “And what of…this?” he gesticulated to her back, where her wings were neatly folded down against her skin. “I’ve never seen a mortal with more than four limbs.”

“Mutation.” _The fishbowl’s water stirred, rings disturbing the surface._ “That’s all.”

Her elusive manner brought a twitch to Loki’s eye, but the agent was in his playing field, so her abilities hardly even mattered. The god began to channel his focus to the rest of the team, but where most of the profiles were rich with extensive histories, medical records, and personal information, one of the last remaining files was…all but empty.

“Barton. Who is this?” he demanded, shoving the tablet beneath Barton’s nose.

“That’s the Brown Recluse. Riley Harrow.”

Loki ground his teeth together, the shadows of the underground facility giving his already-sharp facial features an even more jagged appearance. “I know _that_. That’s _all_ the profile says. There’s not even so much as a picture! Where is the rest of the information?”

 _Riley Harrow?_ The name _tapped lightly_ on Quinn’s fishbowl, but she did not stir. Familiar names came and went every day. If she followed the bells every single time, she’d rarely make a real connection.

“There isn’t anything else,” Barton admitted, wary of the lividity in Loki’s pallid, macilent face. “And I’ve spoken to Harrow before, but he’s true to his name. Doesn’t talk much, and masks his face.”

Loki uttered a low growl, and had he truly been an animal, he’d have begun foaming at the mouth. “You’re _useless_. If this plan of yours falls through…” He let his words linger, allowing Barton to fill in the blanks for himself. Why should he come up with a colorful threat himself, when he could have Barton concoct his own nightmarish consequences? “Tell me what you’ll need.”

“I'll need a distraction.” The _twang_ of Barton’s bow caused Quinn to startle. “And an eyeball.”


End file.
